Silence Game
by MissMary
Summary: Sly and Carmelita have been together for three years now, but a blackmail threat has come to Sly, and Carmelita is feeling sick in the mornings. What will they do? Based after the third game.
1. Chapter 1

Silence Game

I do not own and did not invent Sly Cooper, his gang and/or Inspector Fox, Sucker Punch Games, or Playstation 2. This story is set after the third game.

_Carmelita speaks_

I saw Sly today, looking in at him through the window. It was open to give him light. He was looking at what was on the bed, and I could tell he was thinking hard, and terribly worried. There is a street light by his room, and there was enough light for both of us to see the bed clearly. It was his old thief's outfit, made to blend into the night, as Sly's ringtail coloring was. With the clothes lay the Cooper staff, the hooked one that has been in his family for generations. He had to have been in contact with his old gang to get it. I didn't know he knew where they were, or how to contact them now. I know now that something is going on, something that is eating at him. It's coming at a terrible time.

Someone is trying to blackmail him, and because of me, he is in a very shaky position. I don't know what to do.

He's been with me three years now, since he had that moment of amnesia in the Cooper Vault, and I told him he was my partner, Constable Cooper. My new captain had already hinted that given Cooper's sense of fair play and his skill, he would be willing to work with him if I could manage to sound out his willingness. To tell the truth, I didn't know how to manage it. God knew I'd been chasing the ringtail for ages, and my old captain had watched as I went from thinking of him as an unnaturally skilled criminal, to a criminal with some decent qualities, to being reluctantly fond of the damn fool. It was when I saw him struggling, and losing, to the monster Dr M had made, that I knew he was important to me. I'd known he cared for me since he almost got killed by Clockwerk- I hear that mechanical, hate filled voice in my dreams, saying that empathy would always be the Coopers' downfall- and he's pulled my tail out of the fire at least three more times, maybe more. When Dr. M said something about neither of them getting what was important to him in life, and shot at me, there was no way I could have avoided it- and Sly jumped in front of that shot for me. Without even thinking I shot down Dr. M, screaming that no one messed with MY criminal. So I took the risk of telling him he was my partner. Where I got the idea I will never really know.

So he left not only the staff that kept up that part of the wall, but the calling card, and the loot bag behind. That was when the silence game started; that's Sly's name for it. The Captain worked something out-don't ask me what, even Sly is better with bureaucratic nonsense than I am, it's all I can do to make out my reports- and Sylvester Cooper joined Interpol as a specially assigned constable. It took a while, but Sly had been considerably banged around during his raid on the Cooper vault against Dr M. We discovered that he was covered in bruises, that he actually did have a small blood clot in his brain that resolved itself under medication, that when he was hurt he slept like a solid rock for days at a time. I was scared to death. The hospital staff was worried for a day, noticed that he was healing remarkably fast, and relaxed. We discovered when he woke up that he hated hospitals. When he started to complain, we worked out a deal with the doctor in charge and I took him home with me so there would be someone to watch him.

He hasn't left yet. I don't think I intended for him to.

We discovered that there was actually a Sylvester Cooper, a Swiss citizen, who was a well-off gentleman who traveled a great deal buying and selling rare artifacts. Sly- who became Syl so that we wouldn't bring his memory back too fast- had maintained a cover persona, a businessman who paid taxes and regularly paid two helpers generous shares in ventures. He had a stock portfolio. He had retirement accounts. He had normal bank accounts. Sly was not rich but he was not going to be living off his Interpol salary either. The cover persona was the person that Interpol hired; this was the person that had the papers, the birth certificate (his father's occupation was listed as import- export consultant) and as far as the Swiss government was concerned, real. Sly Cooper the thief had no identity, and in fact the police files listed him as missing.

The Captain worked the amnesia line hard. He put Sly through refresher training, only to discover that the only part that gave Sly a problem was swimming. In water Sly sank like a stone, and the instructor said he had never seen anything like it. That old otter saw Sly as a challenge; the academy, bewildered, let Sly breeze through the obstacle course, the marksmanship courses, the international law courses, and then handed him over to the otter for three weeks to learn how to stay alive in water long enough to get help. They did it, too. By the end of those three weeks, Sly could pass the swimming requirements and swore if he never set foot in water again it would be far too soon. He couldn't understand why I was bent over in laughter; how many times did I glimpse him come out of water like a scalded cat? The Captain paired me with Sly, and right away, we worked as if we had been partners for years. Sly's perspective was priceless. The captain sent us after the toughest, and we brought them back, alive. Sly still preferred a variety of his staff- we made him up one- but he learned how to use my shock pistol in about two hours, and when he had to he used it. We were usually sent after the kind of criminals Sly despised, the ones who could care less who they hurt. I was constantly amazed by his bag of tricks. We acquired two more regular helpers, one a constable named Shelly, a squirrel, who had met and been helped by Sly before, and a hunk of amiable muscled bull nicknamed Hunk who drove and was the brawn when we needed it. Shelly was not as brilliant as Bentley, and Hunk was somewhat brighter than Murray, but they did provide decent backup when we needed a team. Sly treats them about the same way he had treated his gang.

For a time, there was some tension in the office. Sly charmed the office secretaries in about a week, even the solidly grumpy old matrons who grunted more than they spoke. The younger men were the ones who gave us the hardest time. It was bad enough that they resented me; I showed them up regularly with my arrests, even if I never brought in my main quarry. However, I was a woman, and they admired me even if they would sooner date a swamp alligator that looked like Miz Ruby before they'd date me; to an extent, that diffused some of the resentment. Then Sly showed up. He teased and flirted with me, and they could tell I enjoyed it. He was gallant to the office secretaries and matrons, and they loved it, especially since it was very clear that he was off bounds to anyone but me. He was good-looking, he was in better physical shape than the other men were, and he didn't give a damn if they liked him or not, as long as he had his own loyal squad. Some of the older officers suspected who Sly was. Due to the silence game, they couldn't say anything, but the suspicion could be cut some days.

Now, at that time, it had become obvious that while we lived in the same apartment, things were not quite what everyone thought at first. Sly had run me ragged and played games with me for years, and while I accepted that part of that was thief escaping cop, some of it was plain games. I was determined to be sure that Sly was indeed going to stay clean before anything more developed, but I also wanted to get him back for the games, and I did, in spades. I made him wait months. The ladies watched; the younger men relaxed and eased up a little; and the older men were silently cheering me on. Sly teased, and he flirted. He made a good roommate, sharing the expenses and the chores without a problem. And there were times when he took a lot of cold showers, or some kind of equivalent. In the meantime, we got to know each other much better, with long walks and long talks, going out to dinner and dancing, and sometimes just companionable silences when he would play video games and I would read. The silence game, where he pretended not to remember and I wondered if he did, prevailed, although I did tell him about some of the times we worked together.

Sometime in the third month, we were walking when we got an urgent request for help. Children were trapped in a building about to fall, and a constable trying to help had shown the building was closer to collapsing than they thought. The problem? The children were on the roof, and the constable was on the wall where he had tried to climb to them. Our skills were needed. We headed over.

We had to go to other none-too-steady roofs to get to the children. Sly did his dance with the lines and spires, and got to the children. He got them to me one by one, by securing a line. I got them down to the street. On the second to last child, though, the building lurched. Sly calmly took the child on his back, tied him there, and climbed down the side of the nearby building, after sending everyone else out of range of possible falling splinters and other material. He then went back for the constable. By this time, some of the men from the office, which was close by, had gotten the word and come out to help keep back curious watchers. Just as Sly got the constable to the ground, there was a rumble, and he hit the ground behind the constable running.

He got to me and turned. As if on cue, the building collapsed in on itself. We stood and stared for a while, until I put my hand on Sly's shoulder and saw he was bleeding. When we turned, we realized half the office was looking at us. They escorted us through the crowd to the office, and while one of the matrons cleaned and bandaged his shoulder, the watchers told the story to everyone there. Sly was embarrassed. The thief who danced with me in the court of a criminal king, the one who bantered with crime lords and took on an enemy of his family line with grim determination, who cheekily left his calling cards in every safe and in every situation where he knew someone would find it, was terribly embarrassed at being seen rescuing children. He just about hid under a desk when he found out that some reporters had head about it and wanted the story. The captain sent me to deal with that for him; I was used to being photographed. I moved in and out of the room, and noticed that the older officers were talking to Sly, telling their own stories, and he was listening. I think he may have been enjoying himself. Finally it was all over and the only one left in the room was Sly. He was lying with his head over the desk, tired. I went over and stroked his neck.

"Don't tease me, gorgeous," he said, his eyes closed.

"Let's go home," I told him. When he lifted his head, I kissed him. It lasted a while.

It was a good thing I managed to get us both a day off the next day, because-in between other activities I won't go into- the silence game ended between us that night. For a time, I was afraid he would be angry with me, but he assured me that he had remembered that night. We talked for a long time. I knew by the next day just how much he loved me. I knew there would never be anyone else for me. After that, the older men accepted Sly. He had risked his life for children whose plight had no hold on him and he declined attention for it; what he was before no longer mattered. He had proven himself. The younger men were impressed despite themselves, and while the jealousy did not go away, the older men could keep them in line. Time went by, and I was as happy as I have ever been. I believed Sly was too, even though he missed his friends sometimes. Sometimes he asked me to "make it formal;" I didn't want anything to change.

But somehow, somewhere, someone had caught on to the silence game, and I was afraid. Until now, I did not think of how the silence game left Sly open to attack. The Captain used it to bring Sly in and keep him honest but now it was being used against him. What would Sly do? There was only one way for me to know. I had to follow him. I could not confront him, because right now I was playing my own silence game. I had been waking up sick for more than a week now. Sly worried about me, but after I got up I was usually better, and I pretended not to understand his hints. I did not want to know; I did not want to face the choices I was going to be forced to; and I did not want Sly knowing, because I knew I had to make this decision on my own.

So I waited, and when Sly finally got dressed and went out the window, I followed him.


	2. Chapter 2

_Sly Speaks_

I know she's out there. She wasn't supposed to find out about this. I look at the clothes on the bed that I haven't wore in three years, at the family staff I haven't touched until Bentley got it to me this week, and I think of everything that's happened. I got a roundabout message from Penelope after Bentley saw Carmelita and me on his binocucom on that balcony, and we got in touch very carefully. He's happy for me and they're happy; Murray's doing well on the racing circuit and I've seen him as well. Carmelita doesn't know; I don't want her to think I might be going back to my old ways. I can't; there isn't a gang any more. We're more like a family that is connected loosely but not closely. I got in touch when I needed the stuff; Bentley and Murray know why, but I asked them not to get further involved. I don't want them hit by the backlash if there is one. I have to rely on my new friends to get me out of this.

Three years ago, when Carmelita asked me what I remembered, I told her the truth- at the time. I've never really lied to her. Chosen my words very carefully, yes, let her think what she wanted to, yes, misled her, yes, but I haven't lied. She came up to me just as I was waking, dazed, sore and with a headache that barely left me thinking, yet aware we needed to get out of there like yesterday, and I did not really remember what was going on. I managed most of the way out on my own, but she had to help me the last part. Still, something about the way she was acting told me something was wrong. She didn't want to let me out of her sight, which seemed odd in a partner. The mercenaries kept giving us funny looks. When the painkiller she gave me kicked in, my memory came back. Dr. M had said something about my losing what was most important to me, and shot at her. I jumped in the way of the shot. I don't remember anything after that except seeing her come up to me. For an uneasy moment, when we were in the boat and I hurt so much I really wasn't sure of my own name, I wondered if she was simply bringing me in the easiest way possible, but that was not like Carmelita. She could easily have done everything she was doing and kept me in handcuffs. I could have left, but I took the chance and stayed. I'd proven myself by the Cooper Clan's standards, even to the amount of wealth I had built up. I was fairly sure I could rely on Bentley and Murray to hold my share (which they did, another thing Carmelita doesn't know) and I owed them, all the gang. They would be okay. Murray had proved he could survive on his own and he could lean on the guru if he had to; Bentley had Penelope.

The gang and I always took time off after a big job; that's when we healed and settled ourselves. I heal very well, so I was surprised when I got shoved into a hospital as fast as possible. Honestly, Carmelita was acting like I was going to expire any minute. Sure, I was bruised, and when they finished doing their electronic voodoo (I hate hospitals) the doctors fed me some kind of stuff until they were satisfied I wasn't going to die from having my head conked hard twice in a week or so. Since Carmelita was in and out all the time and by this time it was clear that I wasn't going to be arrested, I let them for a day or two while I both slept and worked out how I was going to play the silence game. Then I started raising a fuss; I wanted out. Carmelita took me home. She lived alone in an apartment with two bedrooms because it was convenient to her headquarters. She said she always intended to get a roommate and never did, and for a time, that was what she had, a roommate. It was easier for me that it was for Carmelita; I've never been alone my entire life except when I was an unwilling guest of the Contessa and Interpol for several weeks. I spent more time in solitary there than I did out of it.

The one I had trouble working the silence game with was not Carmelita. It was the Captain, a crusty old owl that for a very short time reminded me of Clockwerk. It was his idea to call me Syl instead of Sly; that reminded me that I was no longer Sly Cooper the thief. But the old boy is brilliant the way Bentley isn't, with people. Bentley and I were a great team with Murray because we balanced each other; this guy was more like a really intelligent Murray, and after an hour or so of polite fencing, we got along fine. He knew about my public persona, and used it. Carmelita came out of that session looking like someone hit her with her own shock pistol. I really got a charge out of how he carefully explained to me what he knew of my background, to "perhaps help me recover my memory." It was a good thing he did, considering I didn't have a shred of personal items and had to buy them. I hope the bankers didn't have a heart attack; it was probably the first time I withdrew money from that particular account. Murray, Bentley and I always worked out expenses and then had our own accounts where we split everything equally, that money being our own. The Contessa would have had a fit if she had gotten Murray to talk. He would have only known about his own money, and I know for a fact that he just stuck it all in bonds, because that was all he could understand.

The Captain used the amnesia line to get me though that basic training stuff, but even he was surprised that I knew a lot of international law. Of course I did; how can you know what to avoid if you don't know the rules? He was equally surprised that I couldn't swim. I swear Carmelita came to watch some of those sessions with the otter (bless his soul, he said he'd teach me and by God he did it) to watch me fumble around for the first time. When I told her I was never going near deep water again, she couldn't stop laughing. I didn't mind. I love seeing her laugh. Does she know she glows when she's happy? Did she know how great it was when she started tugging my ears and calling me ringtail in that affectionate voice, when she started relying on me without even noticing, how gorgeous she is when we race over the rooftops and she loses and curses and then give me that smile and says, "I'll catch you one day, ringtail?" Does she have any idea how much those crusty guys at the office respect her? They watched me like a hawk those first few weeks. For a long time, months, I wondered if I would ever prove myself to all of them.

Then that damn fool constable chased a band of children into a rickety building. They got up to the roof, running from him; then he tried to climb on the building and almost brought it down. Getting those kids down was hard. I don't know if Carmelita noticed that I wouldn't let her on that roof; I knew the thing could come down any minute. I had to bring the last kid down on my back. I actually considered leaving the constable there, but I went back for him. The captain let me chew him out that night. The kids were part of a gang, true, but he had no business going after them the way he did. Carmelita did her thing with the media. I was happy to let her have all the credit and the Captain knew why. It would have told anyone who ever knew who Sly Cooper was where I was and what I was doing, and that would have ruined the silence game. That job was what got me in with the old men. I'd already gotten in good with the ladies; didn't any of the men there realized that any woman, no matter how old or cranky, likes being treated like a person and not a convenience? Only once did I have to ignore flirting with the younger ones; Carmelita took care of that for me. I don't know what passed between those two and I don't want to know. The other by-product was that both being just a roommate and the silence game with Carmelita ended that night.

We've been happy. We've got a good back up team. Shelly the squirrel constable isn't brilliant like Bentley but she does know very well how to use the Interpol sources to get information, and that makes her almost as good. Hank- everybody but me calls him Hunk- is an amiable bull with more brains than Murray, almost as much skill driving, and just as much heart- and a temper that I've had to rein in a few times. I think Shelly knows I'm playing the silence game; Hank feels sorry for me that I can't remember much.

But recently Carmelita is getting up sick. The whole office knew before I caught on- give me a break, I was mostly raised in an orphanage, how would I know about morning sickness? But she won't discuss the possibility or go see a doctor, and it's breaking my heart. I want her to be happy- but I would love to have a real family of my own, too. Maybe she'll finally marry me. I've offered, but she always said we had time to think about it later. Now later is here, and she's got to decide what she's going to do. I had about decided to confront her when the blackmail threat arrived. I was determined to be sure she didn't know. I've made arrangements. All I can do is hope they work out.

I got dressed and went out. It was up to her to follow or not.


	3. Chapter 3

_Carmelita speaks_

He's so fast! I've never been able to catch him on the roofs; the best I can do is keep him in sight. Before that was good enough; I was shooting at him. Now I need to watch for traps, as he will be, and my best bet is to follow him.

What is driving me crazy is that I think I know who this blackmailer is. If it is someone from Sly's past, I intend to stop them, whatever it costs. I am certain Sly will not agree to what they want if they only threaten to hurt him, but if they threaten to hurt me, he might give. He might think his exposure will hurt me. He might think he could still be arrested for something in his past. After what the Contessa did to him, I don't think Sly could stand going into any kind of imprisonment. The Contessa kept me locked down because she didn't want me physically hurt- it would have ruined her plans- and I fought off her mental attacks. Like Sly said once in a rare fit of exasperation-he was physically holding me back from shooting a particularly nasty piece of work that pretended to surrender, then tried to knife Hunk - I'm too damn stubborn to give in to anybody when my mind's made up. But I was an honest cop, and while she held me in the same contempt she held everyone, I was what she expected. Sly was different from any criminal she ever dealt with. He was a thief, but he had a moral code he stood by and to my knowledge never violated. He never stopped fighting her or the guards, and they had no restrictions against hurting him. When they talked he never stopped arguing with her. She was determined to break him, and they both knew that she could, given enough time. Thanks to Bentley, she did not get more than a good start, but I know Sly still wakes up with nightmares sometime, remembering being in that box, surrounded by guards with motion detectors.

Over the roofs we went, past the obvious traps, past the ones that were tricky, and I saw that if I were alone, I would be navigating these easily. My heart sank. It confirmed that the blackmailer was who I thought it was.

_Sly Speaks_

The meeting was in a place only a skilled thief or roof climber could get to. Whoever this was, he knew a few things about me but not a lot. In fact, it occurred to me that he was setting the kind of traps that I might have missed in my younger days, before the Thevious Raccoonus. As I went I realized I knew the area. It was in the part of Paris I was raised in, where the orphanage was. It's still there, although it's changed a lot. I know because Sylvester Cooper still makes regular donations there. All right, so I'm sentimental- but I've met a lot of mean people raised on the street. The orphanage was better that being on my own; it had a kind headmistress, and a responsible board of directors, and most of the teachers were decent.

They try hard to put all the kids in jobs, too, before they have to leave. Murray learned to take care of cars there; Bentley they set up to go to computer school. Me, they gave a good education and watched as I worked myself into good shape in sports and practiced what my father taught me as a child, and worried. I think the headmistress had some idea of what my father was, although he was never caught and no one could ever prove anything. She worried even more when I got a job installing security systems part time. That was a good old guy I worked for; he taught me a lot about security systems and led me to my first ever job. It wasn't him or any of his clients; I had more sense than that! Besides, they were all honest people, as far as I could tell. They had to get the systems because there were a lot more crime problems due to drug addicts. One nitwit tried to break into the orphanage. Why I don't know, because there sure wasn't anything there worth stealing. That had to be the one time that the headmistress was glad I was out after curfew. Not that she knew for sure; after I tripped the idiot, wrapped him in a sheet, and rang the alarm, I ran like the devil for the room I shared with Bentley and Murray and was through the window and in the bed before the fuss started. They always checked our room first (we gave them plenty of reasons) but we were all in the room, in bed, dressed for bed, with the window lock still in place and the door still locked, so she never did figure out who caught the guy. The addict never saw me, which was a good thing as I was the only raccoon in the orphanage. She only suspected it was me because I got out of the orphanage at least once a week since I was eight, on general principles. While the headmistress routinely locked the door to our bedroom, she had not figured out we had the window rigged. She liked me-she just didn't want me to be a thief. She told me quite a few times that I was a good kid, usually when she was changing the lock again, after I learned to pick the last one. We had the only bedroom with a bathroom of its own, and I still to this day don't know if that was because of being locked in, or because I was the only kid in the orphanage with a private income. To my absolute surprise, there was still a legacy left for me to claim, put in trust when I went into the orphanage; the interest had paid the orphanage for my keep. I discovered it when I went through her records at seventeen. She never knew I did that. I did it for practice, not because I expected to find anything.

I made the record for demerits, time outs, and other minor punishments, until I learned how not to get caught. It took me about a year, and that was when I started trusting Bentley to make plans for me. By that time I had Bentley for a best friend, and Murray came a year later. Bentley's parents were killed by police. His father, from what little he ever said, was as mean as any parent can get, and hit both he and his mother, but his mother never did anything wrong and she was killed anyway. To this day, Bentley will never trust the police. Murray came in the same way I did; his parents were killed in a plain, everyday car accident and he had no one else.

Anyway, I was working part time at a place that set security alarms, and I was sent on a routine errand by one of the older workers. On the way back, I was walking by a warehouse when a couple of toughs came out and cornered me. I still don't know if they wanted to scare me, hit me, or had anything more sinister in mind, but I was lucky; the wall behind me was brick and crumbling, and I was able to get up it and past them before they figured out what was going on. I met my boss on the way back; he was worried, and glad I hadn't gotten hurt because there was a lot of trouble in that area. While we walked back, he told me that he was sorry he was losing me to the military, and a little puzzled about why the headmistress told him instead of me. It was two weeks before my eighteenth birthday. That gave me enough warning to disappear. When I got back that night, we listened in on the recording device we had set up some time ago in headmistress's office; an Army recruiter who had been watching me had the headmistress convinced I would be better off in the military where I would get some discipline, have an outlet for my restlessness, and, I quote, "properly exercise my abilities and leadership potential." She was a little doubtful, but at the end of her rope. I don't know how they planned to push me into it, but I didn't want to know, either. I departed two days before my eighteenth birthday, with all my possessions. Since I had to lay low anyway, I decided to check out the warehouse.

Their security was a joke. Anyone who could climb a roof could get in. I figured that something had to be going on. Why weren't they afraid of the cops? Well, I learned why fast; one of the local cops came by for his payoff while I was watching. That showed me how to get into the safe. Watching that payoff made me boiling mad, and that warehouse was the first job after Murray and Bentley departed the orphanage. Bentley just didn't make it to the school they put him in; Murray took the wrong train, and we were together again.

Bentley is a genius. He managed to work out that the crime lord was a nasty fox who had a tough reputation on the street and a good one otherwise. I hit the warehouse first, after we were elsewhere. Then we hit his home. That was where I left my first calling card. To top it all off, we mailed pictures to the authorities, and got to watch the fox arrested on television. He died a few days later of a stroke when he was convicted in one of the biggest scandals in Parisian police history. That job bought the van and Bentley's first computer, and got us started. The thrill meant more to me than the money, and I felt I was upholding my family's legacy. I had my friends, and a career that I loved, and we were bringing in enough to build up a fortune for all of us. What more did I need?

Until Bentley got hurt, I never looked back. Then Murray left, needing to come to terms with his "failure." It certainly diminished the thrill. Worse, after that long talk with Carmelita, when she was relaxed, I had the uneasy feeling that I wanted something more between us than just the fun of being chased by her. Still, it wasn't until I was being crushed by that monster of Dr. M's that I knew I'd been a coward, that I wanted what I have with her now- and more. When the gang told me that Carmelita was the one to stop the monster, I knew we had to work something out when the Cooper vault was opened and Dr. M settled. Fortunately Carmelita took care of that

So how did this fox know who I was? Was he connected to that first job? Who was he, anyway? The old fox I robbed died in prison of a heart attack. If there was anyone left, I didn't know about it.

Well, only one way to find out. I dropped down right behind the guy sitting in what like a minor throne, knocked the guard there out of the way, and announced my presence.

_Carmelita speaks_

I watched as my partner dropped in, and waited. I was in jumping distance, and would join him if I needed to. I saw the blackmailer's face and I was sure.

Pierre was older, but just as handsome as he used to be, with the body a little more thickened and his hair a little gray. When I was younger and much more idealistic, I believed he was perfect. Not only was he handsome and charming, but he would discuss politics, laws, and criminal rehabilitation at length with me. I felt that I had someone I could trust in him- until the robbery at one of his father's warehouses.

I wanted to see the scene of the crime, and went to ask. They- Pierre and his father- were discussing why the thieves only hit the safe and some other small valuables but left the "merchandise" alone. I wondered what they were talking about, but never got a change to consider more about it. Pierre's father refused to let me approach the warehouse because the police had blocked it off. He said his good friend the police commander was taking care of the matter. Two days later their home was struck. The mansion was in a suburb of Paris, and a lot of valuables were taken, along with the safe being raided. It was not only the valuables that were concerning the men; something else was. They kept looking at something small that was left in the safe. Papa Pierre and half of the police force in the area of the warehouse were arrested, and the evidence, obtained in a raid based on information anonymously sent in, including pictures, was damning. Pierre's father was a drug lord, and I knew beyond any doubt that Pierre not only knew, but was part of the organization. Pierre was not arrested, but I remembered his conversation with his father very well.

We had a horrible fight that night. He accused me of wanting to leave him when he was in trouble. That hurt like crazy, but not as much as knowing he lied to me. I had been fooled from the beginning. He was never the man I thought he was. I told him I would stand behind him if he knew nothing of his father's activities, but I would not stand behind the next in line for his father's place. I asked him if he was going to dissolve the business and sell the warehouses. He said nothing. I ran away in tears. By the time all the scandal had settled, I had finished school, and I became a cop. I worked my way into Interpol.

I got my assignment to go after the Cooper gang when several other cops had failed to do more than find shadows. I got close enough to get his picture and to singe him. He got lucky, because he got knocked into a place I couldn't get to him easily, and recovered before I managed to grab him, but after that he had a lot more respect for me and my pistol. I remember the first time he spoke to me, and I discovered his wry sense of humor. I didn't flirt. At first I didn't reply, until I realized that I would get a better chance to shoot if I talked back. In time, I learned more about the gang. Sly was the leader and the thief, their center, and the one that could think on his feet, but he could never have done half as much without the other two. If Sly got into that damned van, Murray could get them out of anywhere. You would think Murray was the scary one because he was so strong, and he was completely devoted to his friends but I had him captured once, and when he isn't angry- and he wasn't angry at me then- he wasn't like most of the criminals I know. In fact, I know for sure he was scared of me. I think he would have been perfectly happy being a truck driver or some such, if he hadn't fallen in with Sly Cooper and Bentley. Bentley- he's the kind that scares me. Bentley is a genius. He made plans, and he hacked computers and he was as devoted to his friends as Sly and Murray were. For a long time he stayed in the background, but after a time, he insisted that he go "into the field" with Sly and Murray, and I know when because they were more effective after that. He was the one who got Sly away from the Contessa, and on his own, too. I had him once, too; physically he was not a problem, but Murray got him away. I couldn't use the pistol in that damn tank, and I wasn't up to fighting both of them physically.

The funny thing is, when Sly talks about his friends, I can tell that he was not only the leader, but he thought of himself as responsible for them. They were his family, the one he found after he lost his own, and he made sure they were taken care of. I was reassigned to clean up the Venice matter when Sly had not surfaced in quite some time except to leave that damn bottle in my office and to help clean up a situation involving some children, which was where he encountered Shelly, but I know now what she suspected, that Sly was having to take care of Bentley, and so my restless thief had to severely limit his activities until Bentley designed a wheelchair that made him just as mobile, maybe more, than he had been before. It occurs to me that this kind of responsibility is a good quality in a father.

What is Pierre trying to do? What does he want? Is it to hurt me through Sly, or did he just get some information and think to use it to his own benefit?

I have to listen to find out.


	4. Chapter 4

_Sly Speaks_

He didn't like it when I dropped in on him, but by this time I did not care. I had to keep his attention on me, and hopefully only me. "You sent me a message," I said. "What do you want?" " I know damn well I can look nasty when I choose. I stood with my arms crossed, staff in hand, and waited.

"So I did," he said, still sitting. He had nerve; he didn't even jump when I landed. "There is a certain party who is causing me problems. I want him dealt with." He went into detail. I almost puked. He wanted me to assassinate someone. I told him no as soon as he gave me a chance.

"Now think," he said mildly. "It seems my information must have been correct; here you are, Sly Cooper, staff and all, but it was Syl Cooper the Interpol constable I sent the message to. This rather ruins your little masquerade of forgetting, doesn't it? If I drop a line or a word to the right person, you'll have your nice little life ruined, won't you?"

"I don't kill." So it was a setup. I had wondered. I hoped again my arrangements would come through. "You must have your little cameras clicking now. Sly Cooper is dead. No more little arrogant cards, no more stunts. He died in a little island in the South Pacific when a vault fell in on him. When I got your little message, I thought it was worth the time to see what this was all about. You've wasted your time." If all he wanted was to expose me, this should get him talking. I hoped.

He smiled a grim smile that lasted only a while. "My little cameras would not do me much good, without more proof. I have sources, shall I say. I know that Sly Cooper the thief and Syl Cooper the Interpol cop are one and the same. I know that you were recruited due to loss of memory, and that more than likely that memory has returned, though at this time you're allowing the pretense to continue. I also know why you had such a change of heart. It is a wonder what a good woman can do for most of us." He raised his voice. "Isn't that so, Inspector Fox?"

I heard cursing in Carmelita's voice. Then she landed beside me, with one of those long jumps of hers. I could tell right away that something was wrong. She stood, but she was listing. I put my arm around her, my heart slamming. Was this part of the setup? Had this jerk deliberately lured her here, to see me exposed, or did he intend to threaten her to gain my cooperation? If Carmelita was hurt, we were in real trouble.

"Hello, my dear," the blackmailer said calmly. "Lovely as ever, but hardened, are you not." His voice had turned to acid.

"Is there a point to all this, Pierre?" she asked. For once, she wasn't shouting. I almost let go. My dear? Pierre? She knew him? Then she reached up and gripped my shoulder, and I knew for certain she was hurt. I didn't like the way he looked at her. There was something twisted in it.

"Certainly," he said. "I'm so glad you joined us, little Carmel." Carmelita winced. " I was certain you would appear after I left that message. It saved me the trouble of bringing you here."

"What do you want?" Her voice was cold, the same voice she used to use when I teased her. There was an edge I wasn't used to hearing. Something was certainly wrong, because Carmelita Montoya Fox, Inspector, was afraid.

"Would you care to introduce me?" I asked, hoping to distract them from the staring contest.

"Pierre Kitsune," Carmelita said flatly. "Son of Jean Kitsune, drug lord, who died in prison years ago."

"And on finding out our background, you renounced your only brother-so fickle." The acid dripped harder, and his face hardened. I thought Carmelita was as alone as I was. Come to think of it, she was; before, I'd had Bentley and Murray, and I'd never really lost them. Having someone like this for family might even be worse than being alone.

"You lied to me." Finally she started shouting. I was relieved, even though my ears were ringing now. "I heard you talking to your father about the warehouse! You always knew what was going on, and now you've taken his place. I should have listened to Mother and never talked to either of you." She lowered the volume so that only half of Paris could hear her and not the whole city. So, this was a half-brother.

"You betrayed your family." He wasn't shouting, but he was just as mad. I looked past both of them. Guards were beginning to disappear. I thought I heard some grunts or snores. I also heard something humming.

"I left," she said, this time normally. "That's not betrayal. You and your father ruined your lives all by yourselves. I went and found my own."

"Oh, yes, the famous Inspector Fox, who brings in all the major criminals except the one you were sent for?" He looked at me, and his rage was headed in my direction. "Is that what you pride yourself on? Since you were after the one who brought us down, I left you alone." I didn't even try to deny it. Pierre's father had been a drug lord from her own admission, and she knew who I went after. Deliberately, she kissed me on the cheek, and then went back to staring at her brother.

"I've known that for quite some time," she said.

That was news to both of us.

"It's time you were brought back home. Now that he's done the one thing he's good for, I can get rid of him, and you can provide me with the one thing I can't provide myself." That twisted look came back into his face. We both stared at him. Not only was he not playing with a full deck, I was fairly sure he didn't have a card left. What could he possibly be talking about? "Let me give you a hint. I own a chemist, and I knew some thieves not quite as skilled as Sly Cooper, but who only had to replace something, not steal it. For the last few months, my dear sister, you've been taking fertility pills. I can't sire children. Since I can't provide myself with a family, you will for me."

Carmelita pulled her shock pistol.

I knocked the gun out of her hand.

She fell.

I grabbed for her. Then Pierre hit both of us. I managed to knock Pierre away, and he rolled to his feet as I got Carmelita into a sitting position and stayed by her. She was listing. I could hear running and shouting behind me. Finally the backup was arriving! I glanced back to see Hank and Murray running up. Glancing up, I saw a small RC helicopter. Then I glanced behind Pierre, and I saw the shadow of a wheelchair, with a squirrel outline beside it. Murray? Bentley? What were they doing here? Pierre looked around and started shouting something I didn't understand. He held something up.

I knocked it out of his hands, and it went flying over the side of the building. He started to laugh, a high, shrill sound, and stepped back. For a moment I thought he was falling; then I realized he was descending on some kind of elevator. I picked up Carmelita and handed her to Hank. "Everyone off the building, he might be crazy enough to blow it. Get her to the hospital. I'm going after him." I couldn't afford not to; he was a threat to all of us now. I didn't stop to wonder how my two alike and different sets of friends were all there. Hank was already moving with Murray ahead of him to be sure the way was clear.

"Sly, take this!" Something flew to me. It was a binocucom. "It's already programmed!" I could see the wheelchair moving with Shelly racing behind. I leaped after the elevator, but too late; he was out of it, and moving. I followed, yanking on the binocucom as I went, and Penelope's voice came over the line.

"Sly, here's the blueprint; I've uploaded it. Bentley will take over when they're safe. Shelly said Carmelita's just faint; she doesn't think anything serious is wrong. "Part of me relaxed. "The thing you knocked out of his hand was a grenade. It exploded on the street; no one was hurt except some windows. That's the good news. The bad news is that Pierre says he's planted a bomb at the orphanage on a timer, and if he doesn't give the code, it'll go. He's known for lying and letting things like that go anyway, so you've got to get a computer on so Bentley can hack into it. There's an office room on your right."

"I'm on it." I turned on the computer and connected it to the internet. Then I went looking for Pierre again. A shot that went over my head warned me that he was probably nearby. "Penelope! Did they clear the building?"

"Yes. It should be the two of you. Wait-"

Shelly came on the line and told me not to catch him." See where he goes. Something else might be up. Carmelita's fine."

I set the smoke bomb and moved. I heard coughing and went after it, hiding in shadows, being as quiet as I could. He was heading back to the roof. I could finally see him, but not get to him. He was carrying something with an antenna. I told Shelly.

"Try to trip him and break the antenna." That was tricky. He kept turning, and sometimes he would let a shot go without any warning. I got close enough and tripped him without him seeing me, and lucked up. The antenna wasn't broken, but it was bent. Shelly consulted with Penelope, who agreed that that would force him into direct line of sight to set off the bomb or whatever he planned to set off. I followed, wanting to seize him and slam him into the ground for putting all of us into this. As if he could hear my thoughts, he started to talk, firing the gun randomly. I don't know how many times he reloaded the damn thing.

"If you're following me, Cooper, you're a fool. Little Carmen's pregnant because I can't have children. Someone told me to adopt. I won't. I've kept an eye on her for years, while I rebuilt the empire my father started. You're fools, you and her. It's a dog eat dog world, and those people with ideals will just get rolled over. You do know I'm going to kill you. I just need the child. Carmen's my half-sister, but my mother took her away and filled her with stupid ideals. Then look who she hooked up with! I couldn't have picked a better father. Your child, hers, my training- he'll be strong, and able to build the family past where father and I had it."

I would have jumped him but he started firing crazily again, and laughed. "Think of it. Think of a child with your talents, Cooper, raised without the damn nonsense about the pride of robbing other criminals. It was a kind of cowardice, wasn't it? Let them actually steal the item, then take it from them and they have all the blame and you can feel smug. Do you think your father limited himself to other criminals! Ha! But given time, he would have changed you. The damn orphanage was the one that kept you from becoming the real thief you could have been. He let your mother start you down that. He was like you, besotted with the woman. Did you know that? Do you think you were the only one to know anything about the Coopers? I found people who knew your father, who knew a little about you, and I got them to talk. Nobody knew much, but they told me enough to bring you here. And the constable you saved? You think he was grateful? He told me the most."

"He's got me pinned down!" I hissed at Shelly as the bullets rang out.

"Bentley's almost got the computer hacked." It was Penelope." They're evacuating the orphanage now, and backup is coming behind you. Let him talk. If he shuts up, follow him." He started moving again, and I followed him.

"Poor little Carmen. I had her charmed. I had it all planned out. She would go to law school, get into the judiciary. By that time she would have seen enough of the real world to be disgusted, and she would have worked with us. Papa approved. He thought keeping everything in the family was important. Then you, a cocky teenager with an attitude and a family tradition, just had to step on everything. Did it make you feel good to tear my family apart? Papa died when they brought in the verdict. She left as soon as I refused to drop the business. What kind of a fool was she? "He was raving, starting to shoot in all directions now, and I stood still, using the invisibility technique. He didn't come close, but I kept wondering if he would hear me sweat. Then he started moving again, and once again I followed. I got close enough to pick his pocket and he didn't even feel it. He was certainly headed for the roof, and I lagged long enough to tell Penelope that. She told me Bentley had the computer hacked but had not yet found the bomb information. Pierre was starting to pant and shake. I wondered what was wrong with him, beyond being out of his mind.

"I need something to come after me. I'm not leaving this world without something of me left behind. She owes me that. She betrayed me. She left, and I was alone. Everyone shunned me, even though they couldn't prove anything. I proved I was as good as Father. I got married. She died. I had a mistress. She died. Both of them of cancer, and now it's my turn." He was at the roof now. "And I won't have to hear the brats again, or think about the place that raised you to tear my family apart and reminding me of the failure of all of us." He turned and pointed the unit toward the orphanage.

I charged him. For the first time he heard footsteps and turned, but I knocked the gun away, and snatched the antenna. He started to scream curses, and pulled a knife. He knew how to use it, too. We circled. He slashed, I countered. I could only use one hand; the other held the antenna, and I couldn't take my eyes away long enough to deal with it. It was all I could do to keep him off. He managed to circle to the gun, but he was up against the edge of the roof. I dropped the antenna and smashed the gun away again.

He fell off the roof. I lunged forward and caught him by the arm. He looked up at me and kicked against the wall. At first I thought he was just flailing, and I started to pull back. He yanked, and we both almost went over. I went flat, with him still dangling. He stared at me a moment, with his other hand groping at the wall, and then an insane grin crossed his face. He pulled a loose brick from the wall and slammed it into my arm. I heard the crunch as the bones broke and pain hit. My hand let go.

It took him forever to stop falling. He made no sound at all.


	5. Chapter 5

_Carmelita speaks. _

Hank carried me away and I was too dizzy and sick to stop him until I was in the ambulance and moving away. Then I started raising a fuss. I was certain Pierre would kill him, and I was equally certain that Sly would go after Pierre. The medics, who had already shoved some kind of needle in my arm to put fluid in, just put something in the fluid, and within a few minutes I was in some kind of dreamy limbo. By the time I came out of it, they had taken blood and put me in a hospital bed. Shortly afterward a doctor came in and talked to me for some time. Behind her came the Captain. "Sly is fine so far," he told me. "You'd only get in his way." I glared. "I believe we have something else to discuss. You have your test results by now." I nodded. "The whole damn station already knows it was positive, so don't bother to lie about it. What are you going to do?"

"I don't know," I told him.

"Have you spoken to Syl?" I shook my head. "You should, you know. As of now, you're off field duty." I growled. "You knew that was coming. You're also off that shock pistol. Don't you know that thing can cause a miscarriage? That's why Syl knocked it out of your hand." He pushed himself off the chair and walked out. "Come to the station when they let you go. I'll let you monitor if you promise to behave yourself. We have an interesting new method of staying in contact. I've already sent Shelly and Hank to work with Syl's-er- friends. I've agreed to ignore their past at this time for their assistance in this matter. It seems Mr. Kitsune arranged for an explosive device at the orphanage where they once resided." I knew from the way he was talking that the situation was bad. He always talks formally when there are serious problems. "Hank and Murray have dealt with the guards designated to prevent help, and Shelly and Bentley are working to get into the computer system. Syl's turned on a computer and disabled the detonating device. The house is cleared; it's only the two of them." I nodded numbly. When the nurse came back in, I meekly went though all the paperwork and then got to the station as soon as I could.

In between reports, the Captain explained to me that Sly came to him as soon as he got the blackmail note, and they made arrangements from there. "I did not expect the hippo, the turtle, or the mouse to show," he said, "but I have to admit they've been very useful. If not for them, we may not have reached you in time, and the odds of finding and disabling the bomb have improved considerably. You will pretend stupidity, do you understand? You have no idea what their background is. As far as we know, they have not committed any crimes since Syl joined us, and I want their cooperation." I nodded, too grateful for their assistance to quibble, since I was listening in on the binocucom at the time. When it was all over and Sly was being taken to the hospital, I went there, and on the way my communicator came on.

Sly was in bed when I got there; his arm was in a cast from wrist to shoulder. He looked exhausted and drawn, but he tried to smile when I came in. "It's over," I said, coming to the bed and taking his hand. "Shelly and Bentley found the bomb. The orphanage is safe. The Captain has the office working on the computer information now." I took a deep breath. "They're doing an autopsy, but they found Pierre's doctor. He was dying of cancer." We were quiet a moment.

" How are you?"

"Tired. You?"

"I got a very long lecture about taking care of myself. I'm fine now. " I hesitated. As usual, he knew what I wanted to say.

"Was Pierre right?" He was watching me carefully, trying to be casual, but I could see he was tense.

"No. The Captain found the chemist. He was pathetically glad to confess. Pierre was threatening his family if he didn't cooperate. He didn't use fertility pills. He just didn't use the usual pills, only sugar." I moved the bed rail and sat on the bed. He got the bed to put him in a sitting position so we could face each other more easily. My heart started to beat faster. "I guess it was enough. I'm pregnant. The Captain took me off field duty."

"Do you mind?" He was watching me carefully.

"Of course I do! I'll be off field duty for months, and be out of work for weeks-"

"You've needed a break anyway."

"I'm going to get fat-"

"Pregnant women aren't fat, they're pregnant."

"-We'll have to move, which means looking for a house and getting a mortgage-"

"You should know by now money isn't that much of a problem."

"-We'll have to find someone to take care of the baby-"

"Like your mother would object?"

"-we'll have to get married-"

"I've asked you about six times."

I stopped ranting. Somewhere along the line I realized that not only did Sly not mind, but that he was relived for some reason. Here I had been scared to death that he wouldn't want to deal with having a baby, and he'd been worried that I didn't. "Dammit, we've got all this mess to deal with, why are you grinning at me?"

"Because I'm going to have a family again," he said.

For some stupid reason that made me cry. By the time I was calmed down, I was lying on the bed with his arm around me.

_Sly speaks_

"Hey," a gruff voice said from the door, "they don't allow that stuff around here." We both looked toward the door, where Hank was sticking his head in. "Is it safe to come in now?"

"It's safe," I said, and in they came, Sly's gang and Syl's team, crowding into the room somehow. Shelly wound up on the windowsill and Penelope sat in Bentley's lap. Murray came in last and closed the door, putting his back against it. For a moment there was silence as we all eyed each other.

Then Shelly said to Carmelita, "Did the Captain take you off field duty?" Carmelita nodded. "Payback's a pain, isn't it?" I caught Carmelita's arm before she could throw the tissue box at our team member, who leaped off the bed and hid behind Hank.

"Hey!" he said, alarmed, and we all started to laugh.

"You have to admit that's better that the shock pistol," Bentley said to Shelly.

"You know where we found the bomb?" Hank told Sly. "In the playroom, buried in toys. One of the kids found it and 'put it away.' It's a damn good thing Murray asked the kids if they'd seen it. Otherwise we would have been dealing with a bunch of kids screaming about losing their toys. "

"We already know how you handle crying kids," Shelly said dryly, back on the windowsill. "Sylvia tears up and you go to pieces. My little girl," she added to the gang.

"My kids do that to Murray, too," Penelope told her.

"Kids?" Carmelita said in disbelief. "How many?"

"Two. Twins, boy and girl." Carmelita looked at the two of them and shook her head. "Hey, how do you think we felt? But you get used to it."

"Speak for yourself," Bentley grumped.

"And who added the rocking chair function to this thing? I didn't!"

"I did," Murray said, clueless as usual. "Bentley designed it." Shelly started to giggle. "What kind of payback?"

"I took her off street duty when she was pregnant," Carmelita said, glancing at the squirrel, "when Sly rescued both she and a kidnapped little girl from a criminal warehouse." Bentley gave me an accusing glare.

"I knew there was a reason you went off in that deep sleep that night," he said.

A pounding on the door and an irate nurse's voice saved me. Murray moved before I could tell him not to, and the nurse came in and chased everyone out except Carmelita. As much as I was glad to see everyone, and how well they got along, the pain stuff they gave me was starting to wear off, the adrenaline had worn off, and I was ready to rest. The nurse had a needle in her hand. I informed her I did not need more medicine, thank you. I hate hospitals. I hated the anchor they had put my arm in, too. I asked the doctor why they had put weights in my arm, and she said she wanted me to stay in one place for a while. I don't know if she was joking or not. Carmelita said, "I can't believe Bentley has children. He's in a wheelchair! How did they manage that?"

"I'm not going to ask," I told her, "except he does have some feeling in his legs. He just can't support himself. The boy looks just like him."

"And just how long have you been in touch with them?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"About two years-ow!" The nurse sneaked around and got me in the arm while I was looking at Carmelita. I tried to glare at her, and got nowhere, as she just trotted off with a smug look.

"It's about time for me to look after you a while, hmm?" Carmelita said, coming up to the bed. I could barely keep my eyes open. "Go to sleep, ringtail. We'll work it all out later, like how we're going to manage the wedding without getting your gang arrested."

_Carmelita speaks_

We did manage it, simply by playing the silence game. No one else really knew who they were. Shelly, Hank, Bentley and Penelope all took turns keeping Murray from giving himself away. We wanted to keep the wedding small, and we did. The reception was engineered by my mother and the Captain, and was one whopping party that lasted into the night. Half the first shift went in with hangovers.

Months later, Sly called the station, sounding as tired as I felt. "It's a girl, just one, and she came out acting just like her mother, screaming her head off."

I would have thrown something at him, but I had my hands full of the most beautiful child in the universe.


End file.
